Inked

listed for the return address on the FedEx envelope. The 10019 zip code is in New York City, an area just south of Central Park. Zee was able to lift a scent off the letter. I sent the boys on a hunt to see if they could narrow down the location of Winifred Cohen.” I looked at Grant. “And they did. She’s alive.”
    He slouched in his chair, fingering the letter. “You want to go there.”
    “I have to.”
    “How? Driving cross-country?” Grant narrowed his eyes. “I know that look on your face.”
    I hesitated, and held up my right hand, staring at the fragments of armor encasing my fingers and wrist. “I could be there in seconds.”
    “Not worth the risk, Maxine. You don’t know what you’re doing with that thing. You could end up in New York City before there even was a New York City, and what then?”
    “Exploring America before it went European holds some appeal to me,” I replied dryly. “How’s that for a vacation?”
    Grant shook his head, jaw tight with concern. I understood. I knew better than to try to time travel. I watched television. Folks who messed with that shit usually ended up destroying the world. I already had enough on my plate, thank you very much.
    But she addressed the note to you by name , whispered a bleak voice inside my head. Your name.
    I gritted my teeth. He said, “You’ll have to fly. And I’m coming with you.”
    “I know,” I said, staring at my hands, the armor—suddenly feeling like Zee, unable to look anyone in the eye. When Grant did not reply, I forced myself to meet his gaze—and found him staring. “You thought I was going to argue?”
    “You usually do,” he said gruffly. “Lone warrior. Venturing into the wilderness, beating your chest about how you don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
    I thumped my chest. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
    “It sounds sexier when you’re naked.”
    I wanted to thwack him in the head. “Is it too much to confess that I just don’t want to be apart from you?”
    His jaw tightened. “No.”
    “Good.” I looked away from him, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. Too many years spent alone, too many expectations to overcome that I would always be alone. And here, this man, who rocked me with emotions I was still unaccustomed to feeling. What I felt for him defied words.
    My skin tightened. I glanced at the window, and found the overcast sky not much lighter. But the sun was moments away from cresting the horizon, somewhere beyond the clouds. Dawn.
    Zee stepped over the laptop, dragging Dek and Mal by their tails. Watching me carefully, Raw and Aaz dropped their razor blades, and clambered close—all of them crawling into my lap, wrapping their long sharp arms around me in tight, fierce hugs. I felt tension in their small bodies, hesitation—too much left unresolved in their silence. They knew it, I knew it. Nothing to be done about it now. I kissed their heads anyway, thinking of my mother and grandmother, and listened to the symphony of purrs that rolled through my body like thunder.
    “Sleep tight,” I whispered.
    I felt the sun rise. In the blink of an eye, the little demons disappeared into my flesh, coating me with smoke and fire—five pairs of red eyes, glinting across my body. Every inch of me, from between my toes to the middle of my neck and scalp, now covered in tattoos: my boys, tingling beneath my clothes as they settled restlessly into dreams.
    My face was the exception, but the boys could shift positions in an instant if danger arose, making me entirely invulnerable. Nothing could kill me while they slept on my skin. Not a bullet, not fire, not a nuclear bomb. If I were held under water, the boys would breathe for me. If I was thrown into a pit and locked up without food or drink, the boys would nourish me from their own strength.
    But only while the sun was in the sky. At night I turned vulnerable, mortal.
    The armor on my hand had also changed its appearance. With the boys away from my skin, the metal had been simple, unadorned, bright as polished silver. Now, like a chameleon, it had dulled to match the coal black shadows on my flesh—engravings of coiled delicate lines appearing mysteriously to blend with scales and the sharp etched angles that were bones and hair, and claws.
    Like roses , I thought, staring at my armored hand; and then glanced at the FedEx envelope where I had placed the fragment of leathery human skin.
    Grant followed my gaze. “This is going